Athos' Nightmare
by darkntwisted
Summary: Once again Athos' past has come back to haunt him. This time, however, his ghosts are more real and sadistic. Will the other Inseperables find him in time? Read to find out. This story was originally a crossover using a character by myownmind. I've since changed it to be more canon to The Musketeers. No romance, just plenty of whump.


CHAPTER ONE

The inn's main floor was busy. Raucous laughter blended with loud voices and circled around the dark haired man. The wooden tables were filthy, so was the floor. The mixed scents of vomit, urine, rotten food, stale beer and stale bodies would have turned the man's stomach if he'd felt the slightest bit hungry. The air was thick with smoke from the barely burning fire place in the corner of the room, the kitchen added a fair amount to the surrounding area as did the tobacco that several of the patrons were enjoying. Athos, Lieutenant of the King's Musketeers, didn't notice any of these things. The sole focus of his attention was the half full flagon of wine on the table in front of him and the several others ne knew to be stashed somewhere in the cellar.

This was not the usual place Athos and his fellow Musketeers frequented. That had been part of the man's plan as he'd chosen the darkest, isolated corner table he could find. Usually it was used by prostitutes when their work didn't require full contact between themselves and their clients. That only added to the nuance of the spot but again, Athos was completely oblivious. As well trained as he was, though, he did notice the occasional glare some of the prospective clients threw in his direction. Clearly he was preventing some of them from having a better time than they were. With a small, bitter grimace, Athos downed half the bottle in two long pulls. He was here to get drunk, very drunk, not to worry about men and their missed hand jobs.

"Would you like more, Monsieur?" the serving wench asked on her way by. The table adjacent to his was particularly loud and had all ready drank several rounds of ale. The poor girl was virtually run off her feet and was hoping to save herself a few steps by serving the silent man before he ran out.

Not bothering to look up, Athos nodded his head, his dark hair falling across his eyes. With an uncharacteristic show of temper, the Musketeer pushed the hair out of his face. He wasn't nearly drunk enough yet. Images of his ex wife and the King were playing through his mind. The woman was beautiful. He had to give her that. She was also very manipulative. He had to give her that as well. She'd had him wrapped around her finger enough that he'd proposed and brought her home to his estate.

That should have been the happy ending to his life. Marriage to a beautiful woman, an estate rich enough, with the right leadership, to ensure that his younger brother would never want for money and could marry anyone he wanted. Memories of his younger brother, Thomas, only added to the pain burning through Athos' soul. The love of his life, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, had killed Thomas in cold blood. Bile raced up from his stomach as Athos lived through the discovery of his brother's body and the realization that Anne had been the one to kill him. Rather than give in to the urge to throw up, Athos grabbed the flagon of wine and emptied it, the pungent alcohol burning all the way down his throat.

In an instant, the empty container was removed from the table top and replaced with a full one. Athos was grateful but was beyond expressing the emotion. He had a lot more drinking to do. Swallowing thickly, his strong, weathered fingers grasped the flagon, ripped the cork out of it and took another mouth full. As the images in his mind began again, Athos was thankful for another thing, his three friends weren't here to try to curtail his drinking. Tonight he was going to drink with no regrets.

TMTMTM

The sun was just beginning to rise in the east splashing colors of red, pink, orange and purple across the sky. The beauty was mostly lost within the darkness under the thick canopy of trees. Hidden within the tree trunks was a small clearing in which a quaint house sat. The wood and thatch building was not huge. On the inside there was a main room inside the door that contained the fire place, table and six wooden chairs. The bedrooms were up a set of rickety stairs that led to a loft. At one point the house could have easily been a barn. In the dim light of dawn, a thin tendril of smoke lazily made it's way up to mingle with the thick foliage from the trees that over hung the roof. The quiet of the early morning was broken by birds welcoming the day and the thick wooden door of the house squeaking open.

"They'd kill me if they caught me like this," Emilie thought. The dark haired woman shouldered a pack and made her way through the wooden fence. She loved her family dearly. Her father did the best he could but after her mother's death, raising the only girl in the Richard family fell to her older brothers. Needless to say she wasn't a typical woman. Still, her four older brothers tried to keep her in dresses, as was proper for a woman. Marie, however, found that they tended to get in her way while she was hunting. Hunting was something she loved to do.

Pacing down the winding trail that led towards the main road, Marie kept her eyes and ears open. In one hand she held a hand made bow. It was her best weapon, along with the quiver of hand made arrows. In the other hand she held a large knife that was contained in a well used leather sheath. Absently, Marie thrust the knife and sheath into the belt that circled her waist. The breeches were not her own. She'd stolen them from her youngest brother after doing the laundry the day before. She'd also borrowed her brother's shirt, waist coat and a pair of his boots, hers were far too short and feminine to go tracking through the forest in. There would be hell to pay when she returned home that night, even if her hunt was successful, but to be free for the day was worth it. Grinning to herself, the dark haired woman slipped into the forest.

TMTMTM

The sun had nearly reached it's highest point when Marie sat down to eat her lunch. All five of the men at her house worked. She'd left them breakfast and knew that none came home to eat at mid day. She'd chosen her favourite spot beside a slowly running stream. The trees above kept the sun from getting too hot but it also made the world dark with random flashes of dazzling light as the sun peeped through the canopy. The sound of the water calmed her and it made it easier to not have to carry water around with her. Also, several of the forest animals used the stream to drink. No matter how desperate Marie got for food, she could not bring herself to kill the animals that came there. It seemed sacrilegious almost. From her bag she brought out a quarter loaf of bread and a carefully wrapped chunk of cheese.

Humming quietly to herself, Marie took the time to remove her brother's boots because they were causing sores on her feet. With a heart felt sigh, she sat at the edge of the stream and placed her aching feet into the cool water. There was a large tree that grew right along the edge. It too was one of her favourites. Shifting side ways a little, she was able to lean against the rough bark on the tree trunk and still leave her feet in the water. Through the fabric of her brother's shirt and waist coast, she could feel the bark press into her skin.

Absently, she took a large bite of the bread and scanned the woods around her. The trees were alive with birds, squirrels and the occasional rabbits. Those weren't what she was hunting today though. Deer were becoming more scarce as people struggled to survive under King Louis' reign. Still, they weren't that desperate yet. Another three hours of hunting and she would have to head home. Unfortunately, being the only woman, Marie was still required to do all the woman's work, cooking, cleaning, darning, washing. All jobs she hated. One of these days her eldest brother Paul was going to get tired of her terrible cooking and take over the job, she hoped.

"I knew I could find you here," an all too familiar voice stated.

"Damn you Nicolas! You scared me!" Marie nearly screamed as her brother's hand fell on her right shoulder. The spike of adrenaline left her a little shaky but she was quick to hide it as she put her feet back into the water. Nicolas was her brother closest in age to her. They were virtually inseparable. Somehow it didn't surprise her that he'd followed her. "You are supposed to be at work!"

"We ran out of orders for the day. Francios assures me there will be more for tomorrow. I figured you'd be out here hunting when I found my shirt missing," Nicolas responded, his typical crooked smile gracing his lips. While Marie was dark haired, dark eyed and a little over five feet, her brother took after their mother. Nicolas was taller than her by at least a head, had dark blond hair and sparkling blue eyes.

"Are you here to drag me back?" Marie asked, only half serious. Nicolas laughed and pulled her up to her feet.

"That depends, how much have you got?" he inquired as he looked around them.

"So far I've spent more time enjoying the weather," Marie admitted, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.

"Well, than, we'd better get going. Papa won't whip you if we bring down a deer," Nicolas said. Quickly, Marie pulled on Nicolas' boots, gathered up her things and headed out in the direction she'd been going before her short break.

Two miles later they were no closer to finding meat to bring home. Nicolas hadn't meant the comment about Marie being whipped. That wasn't what they did. But Papa's disappointed look would be sufficient to make both of them feel awful. Their travels had brought them close to the main road that passed through their district. It was frequented by soldiers, brigands and traders. All people neither of the siblings wanted to meet. So they started to follow the road from the safety of the forest. It was nearly time to head back so finding game had become less important.

"We'll go to the bend in the road then we'll head back," Nicolas stated. A quick glance at his sister and he continued on. Despite societal norms, Nicolas treated his sister as a peer. There was a year between them so the loss of their mother had hit them the hardest. The trees and undergrowth were starting to thin out slightly. The siblings knew that around the bend in the road there was a clearing with a small brook. They would pause there long enough to have a drink before heading home.

As the duo neared the bend in the road, a new sound reverberated through the forest. Gone were the birds and the squirrels were skittering up the trees to hide in their holes. Instinctively, Marie and Nicolas found the nearest large bushes and hid behind them. From the far side of the leaves and branches, the siblings watched as a large group of men on horses thundered down the road. Fear shivered down Marie's spine. These were soldiers but not ones that usually patrolled the roads and towns nearby.

The soldiers were moving in two columns. Each column was led by a well dressed man. The one farthest from them was older. His white hair and lined face were stoic, almost angry. His clothes were too fine to be worn on the back of a horse. The other man was younger. His dark hair was gathered at the back in a tail but there was no grey evident from this distance. He was at least appropriately dressed in leather travelling clothes but they were of a quality that would buy Marie's entire family an outfit.

"Who is that?" Marie asked her brother. The older man was more worldly than his sister. He'd been to two villages while Marie was well versed on an area that consisted of five miles from her home. Nicolas was crouched beside her in the bush. When she looked at his handsome face, she saw the intensity in his blue eyes. While Nicolas was the one who usually made Marie laugh, he was also the one she avoided when he was angry. "What do you see?"

"I don't know them. I don't recognize the sash on the soldiers, they aren't from around here," Nicolas replied. He didn't look away from the group as they moved from the siblings' right to their left. "Let's go see what they're going to do."

TMTMTM

It had been a long trip. Now that they were well outside the limits of Paris the leader of the group figured it would be all right to stop for a few minutes, allow their mounts to rest and have a drink. The Comte knew that there was a clearing around the bend in the road that would be of sufficient size for the troops and horses. Signaling his son, he let the younger man pass the message back to the men following them. Within minutes fifteen men and fourteen horses were coming to a halt, invading the once tranquil meadow. "Ten minutes!" the son called out.

From a safe distance, Marie and Nicolas were making their way through the forest. Marie wasn't sure about taking a chance of being discovered but just like her brother, her curiosity was overpowering her fear.

"What do you think they're doing?" she whispered into Nicolas' ear as they took up a position within a thick grouping of shrubs. They could see everything that happened in the clearing without risking being seen themselves, so long as they managed to stay still.

"I don't know," Nicolas responded as he scanned all the faces he could see. There was no one in the group that he recognized. That was surprising. In his job as a tailor he knew most of the genteel people within several communities. Francious was very well known for his ability and attention to detail and was saught out by nearly all of the upper class in the area. "But it can't be good."

Across the meadow, the men were moving around, checking their bridles and saddles, preparing to set out. That was probably a good thing as most of them did, in fact, gave Marie the creeps. From behind the mass of horse flesh and human bodies, two of the soldiers dragged a large, dark shape towards the brook. With a heave, they threw it into the water, laughter floating over the air towards the two watchers. Marie was just going to ask her companion what he supposed the shape was when the soldiers, still laughing, reached into and pulled what was obviously a man out, water streaming from his hair and clothes.

"They have a captive," Nicolas stated. He shifted slightly beside Marie to get a better view. From her position poking her head as far through the shrubs as she dared, she saw that the man was wearing a filthy, too large white cotton shirt. He was wearing brown leather pants with really big buttons on the front of them and another version of the floppy topped boots. He had scraggly, dark hair that obscured his face as the two men pulled him up by his shoulders but Marie was sure she saw facial hair before he was turned away from them. Casually, the men tossed the man over the closest horse and appeared to tie his arms and legs around the animal's stomach. The whole time the man had to be unconscious as he didn't resist and his head hung loosely between his shoulders.

The captive hung limply on his stomach over the horse's neck, in front of the saddle. Water collected on the ground by the horse's front hooves as it waited patiently. The brown animal had a black mane and tail that was well groomed. The younger of the two well dressed men vaulted onto the animal's back. He had very blond hair but that was about the only features Sandra could tell from this distance. That and that he wasn't a very nice person. As she watched, the rider struck the captive in the back end. With a shout of laughter, he took the lead and exited the clearing.

"What are we going to do?" Marie asked. Now that the men were mounting their horses, she could plainly see that most of them had a sword attached to their belts and pistols. All of the men had various other weapons on their persons as well, from a second fire arm to a shorter sword sheathed at their backs or smaller, dagger like knives that she could tell were probably for throwing.

"We keep quiet, wait for them to leave," Nicolas responded, his eyes still glued to the group of men and horses as they wheeled and followed their leader, headed toward the road.

"What do we do after that?" Marie pressed. She had absolutely no idea if the man being held captive was a good person or bad. But that didn't stop her from feeling the need to help. "We can't leave him with them."

"Why not?" Nicolas asked as he finally turned his intense blue eyes back towards Marie. "They have horses and weapons. Two things neither of us have. How do you suppose we set him free?"

"By the time we catch up with them something will come up," Marie retorted. "Come on." Not waiting for her companion's further arguments she set off after the disappearing horses.

"Dad's going to kill us both," Nicolas growled under his breath as he moved to catch up.

OOOOO

A low groan emitted from between clenched teeth. God, how much had he drank last night? The thought evaporated as nausea assailed Athos' senses, destroying all form of logical thought. Swallowing thickly, the musketeer tried to force his heavily lidded eyes open. All he found was a dark brown world that spun drunkenly and that smelt an awful lot like a horse.

"I think he's awake," an unfamiliar voice floated from above and behind the dark haired swordsman. Before he tried to place the person speaking, the fact that his hands and feet were tied, anchoring him on a horse, burst to the surface of his aching mind. From the pain from his wrists, Athos knew he'd been tied for at least twelve hours. The way his head was pounding and swimming was beyond even the worse hangover he'd ever had and he'd had plenty awful ones given his penchant for drinking copious amounts of wine every night. Now that he was more aware, at least of his body, the musketeer realized that he'd been beaten rather soundly if the aches and pains that seemed to cover every inch of skin he possessed was any testament.

"Too bad. We don't need him making trouble until we can get him somewhere secure," an older male voice responded a short distance away. Between them, Athos could make out several horses walking, tack stretching and squeaking, and the sound of several men. Without success, he tried to draw enough moisture into his mouth to ask a question. Nausea threatened again. Swallowing had no effect and before he could come up with any other option, bile and sour wine erupted from his mouth onto the horse's pelt. The wrenching of his stomach muscles only made matters worse.

"Son of a bitch!" the closest man swore as the horse came to a halt. Still vomiting helplessly, Athos couldn't see properly with tears running down his cheeks and his nose running. Each heave of his body evaporated what little strength he'd had when he'd come to. In his world of misery, the swordsman was unaware that the rope between his hands and feet was cut until he fell boneless to the ground. The impact caused him to inhale some of the bile that had been left in his protesting stomach. Instinctively, his lungs spasmed, trying to evict the liquid. Long moments passed as the dark haired musketeer struggled desperately to breath around the deep, hacking coughs and the ever present retching. "Someone get some water."

"He's going to die right here unless we figure out a way to help him," a third voice filtered through the roaring in Athos' ears. His world had contacted to his lungs and stomach. Nothing else really mattered. Gasping breath into his lungs, he was finally able to get the coughing to subside a little. Still, his nose and eyes ran in response to the assault on his system. A hand came down and pulled the swordsman's head off the ground. Then the lip of a water skin was being pressed against his lips.

"I didn't want the water for him. You," the first voice growled. "Wash off my horse's neck. I don't want that mess burning her skin."

Dragging greedily at the contents of the water skin, Athos tried to take in his surroundings but nothing was cooperating. Water splashed on his side but he didn't notice or care. Except for the voices, the world around him seemed to be wrapped up in thick blankets, making every sound muffled and not quite right.

The water skin was pulled away just as the musketeer got the taste of vomit out of his mouth. Each breath felt like fire that burned from somewhere in his chest all the way up to the front of his throat and threatened to cause another coughing fit. The roaring in his ears was just beginning to subside when he felt hands on him. The ground disappeared to be replaced with a warm, wet body. Part of Athos' mind knew he'd been thrown back onto the horse. The pressure on his stomach only made the agony he was fighting increase. No longer able to combat the warring sensations and the tortured muscles, darkness reclaimed him.

A/N: Hello! As you've probably noticed this story is slightly different than the one that I originally posted. I went back and forth a few times then finally decided that as much as I wanted to write a Musketeer story with my original character Sarah in it it just got to be a little too Mjish. So, I've changed it. I hope you like the difference.

Thank you very much to Greenlips24 and Middle earth musketeers for following the original story. Hopefully you are still interested in where this is going to go. Thank you very much for the support!


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